Mornings with your boyfriend were always lazy ones. Dean was a relentless night cuddler — always having one arm wrapped around you no matter what position either of you were in.

You wake up first, as usual, Dean still fast asleep beside you. You try to get up, prying his arm off your waist, but he simply pulls you closer, your back flush against his chest, a low, tired moan leaving his lips.

He slowly stirs awake, his eyelids fluttering open as he sits up slightly, just enough to see your face. He smiles tiredly, his hair was messed up, blinking away the last bits of sleep.

“Mornin’ baby.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your face.